


Hockey

by Parker4131970



Category: due South
Genre: Betting, Competition, F/M, Hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1361851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/Parker4131970
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why is Inspector Thatcher standing sentry duty? A few pages of Ben/Meg fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hockey

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know the first thing about hockey, so if I've made a glaring mistake, please forgive me. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

_**The Canadian Consulate, Chicago, Illinois ….** _

Meg stood at attention in her red serge. It had been a long time since she'd had to stand sentry duty. She didn't like it as a young officer and she didn't like it any better as an inspector. It didn't help that Little Jimmy Whalin from down the street stood looking up at her, his pistachio ice cream dripping on her high browns. Cold, Chicago cement did NOT make her cold feet fell any better either. Meg was glad for her heavy, red serge on top of a long sleeve, thermal Henley. The lady Mountie counted down the minutes until her sentry duty shift ended.

 _“I am definitely going to tell Ottawa that this duty switch program is for the birds.”_ Meg thought before she let out a relieved sigh as the clock across the street struck it's last chime at four o'clock.

“Uh oh.” Little Jimmy's blue eyes widened as Meg took a step forward. Even he'd heard about the 'Dragon Lady'. He dropped his ice cream and hightailed it up the sidewalk.

Meg made her way up the front steps of the consulate, looking forward to taking off her hat and getting out of her uniform.

“Constable Fraser, do I have any messages?” She asked, her hat tucked under her arm as she entered her office.

“Hello, Inspector, yes, your gynecologist called to reschedule you appointment, your bikini wax is set for Saturday at two o'clock and there's a delivery for you from _Lacy Lady's Lingerie_.” Fraser looked at Meg's left ear, avoiding eye contact. She just hoped he hadn't opened her delivery. It wouldn't do for him to see the red and white lace she'd ordered.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser, good evening.” Meg was officially off duty so she began unfastening her Sam Browne belt. Fraser stood stock still after dismissal.

“Is there something else, Constable?” Meg asked before beginning on her brass buttons.

“If I may, Sir, the uniform suits you, it's quite fetching.” Fraser shifted his weight, gauging her reaction.

“Thank you, Fraser.” Meg responded, her feminine hands smoothing the pockets. He simply nodded before turning to leave.

“Uh, Constable, may I ask you a personal question?” Meg began toying with a gleaming, brass button at her waist. Ben turned, surprised at her question.

“Yes?”

She noted how he stiffened.

“What is it about the red serge that you think is so flattering on me?” Meg wanted to know once and for all. It was a daunting question.

Fraser ran his thumb nail over his left brow, avoiding eye contact again.

“Your cheeks.” He began.

“Oh?” Meg laid one, small hand on her face. How odd.

“The red serge brings out the color of your cheeks.” That was an easy enough answer.

“Oh, is that all?” Her tone was unmistakeably disappointed. Not such an easy answer after all.

“The uniform, though dated, does accentuate areas of your silhouette.” Fraser amended, hoping he sounded casual.

“My silhouette, eh?” Meg ran her finger around one of her coffee cups on the desk, a smile trying to pull up the corners of her lips.

“I hadn't thought of it that way.” The Inspector tilted her head to one side, a charming expression on her features.

“If there's nothing else, Sir?” Fraser began tugging on his collar, hoping to be released.

“Ah, yes, it is that time of day isn't it.” Meg almost sighed. She dreaded going home to her empty apartment. It was too quiet.

“Dismissed, Constable Fraser, good evening.” Inspector Thatcher nodded briefly, her hands folded primly in front of her.

“Good evening to you as well, Inspector.” Fraser noted the listlessness that had crept into her usually vivid, brown eyes. He shifted, about to step away when a thought struck him.

“Sir, do you like hockey?” It was Ben's turn to fidget.

“Yes, I love the game, why?” Meg looked him square in the eye.

“There's a game on in a few hours, I thought perhaps you would like to watch it, here, with me, in the sitting room, tonight.” Fraser nearly stuttered, overwhelmed by his own boldness.

“I would very much enjoy watching the game. What time does it begin?” Meg bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from smiling.

“The pre-game starts at six.” Fraser answered.

“Fine, that will give me sufficient time to go to my apartment to freshen up, and to eat something.” Meg's mind raced ahead.

“I could cook something if you like, I have to fix something for Dief and myself.” The hopeful tone in his voice surprised Meg.

“If it wouldn't be too much trouble.” She shrugged.

“None at all.” Fraser gave her one of his rare, unguarded smiles. It was simply dazzling. Meg felt her knees weaken.

“I should get going then.” She found her hat, coat and purse.

_**One Hour Later ….** _

Meg had changed into a pair of comfy jeans and her favorite RCMP sweatshirt. It was only dinner and hockey, right? When she opened the front door of the consulate she smelled something baking and melting cheese; a slice of heaven.

“It's just me, Fraser.” Meg called as Dief came to greet her. The wolf stood halfway down the hallway, looking from her to the kitchen.

“Good evening, supper is about finished.” Fraser voice carried down the hall. Meg stepped closer, wondering what smelled so delicious.

“ I hope you didn't go to a lot of trouble.” She carried her contribution; a yellow cake with chocolate icing. She stepped into the kitchen and let the delicious scent of chicken and melting cheese wrap around her.

“I made chicken casserole.” Fraser pulled a glass dish out of the oven. Mashed potatoes, brown gravy and a salad already sat on the small table off to the side of the open kitchen.

“You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, Fraser.” Meg chided him as she set her cake on the counter.

“Oh, no trouble, it's stuffing mix, boneless chicken, cream of mushroom soup mixed together and covered with shredded cheese. Fifteen minutes in the oven and supper is served. If you'll have a seat we'll eat in a moment.” Fraser put a cast iron trivet on the table before setting the casserole down. With flourish, he dished out supper. His rough hands worked seamlessly to lay each portion on paper thin china dishes. He and Meg dug in, after Fraser dished Dief a couple of extra chicken tenders.

“This is delicious, Fraser, you'll have to write down the recipe for me.” Meg dug in, savoring the dressing's spices and melted, gooey cheese.

By the end of the meal both Mounties had eaten their fill, as had Dief. The wolf looked up at Meg so pitifully then at the cake, still warm in the pan.

“May I?” Meg asked, cutting a piece then slicing off the icing.

“Just this once.” He spoke solely to the wolf, his eyes narrowed. Meg watched Dief roll his eyes. All she could do was giggle. Dief chomped down the plain cake in one go.

“The pre-game starts in a few minutes, shall we go into the sitting room?” Fraser suggested as Meg cut each of them a slice of cake. Together they took their desserts and glasses of milk to the sitting room. Fraser pulled the sofa over to the television mounted on the wall. They took opposite ends. Meg ate slowly, she'd eaten too much casserole to truly enjoy dessert. She stole a glance at Fraser, her subordinate officer. He ate slowly as well, savoring his cake. She studied his profile. He looked for all the world like Cinderella's Prince Charming.

 _“Maybe that's why I'm so infatuated with him?”_ Meg wondered silently.

After a few more bites, she had eaten enough. She set her plate on the coffee table along side her half empty milk glass.

“Are you finished,” Fraser paused before calling her 'Sir'.

“Yes, but let me take these, you cooked supper.” Meg took his plate and glass as well as her own and put them in the sink. So far she'd watched most of the pre-game and hadn't said anything to Fraser.

“Who are you rooting for?” Meg asked, making conversation as she settled back down on the sofa.

“The Leafs, of course.” He watched a re-play carefully, leaning forward.

“Of course.” Meg shook her head.

If only she knew how nervous he felt having only a cushion between them. She looked so approachable in jeans and a sweatshirt, so natural.

“I don't suppose you have any money on the game's outcome?” Curiosity fueled Meg. She didn't know nearly enough about Fraser to suit her.

“No, I don't gamble money.” Fraser turned to her, for once not looking at the television.

“Would you bet something else then?” Meg leaned over, a smoldering quality to her dark eyes.

“What do you suggest?” Ben saw the challenge and met it.

“Who do you believe will win the game?” Meg answered with a question of her own.

“The Leafs, they have an excellent record this year.” Ben affirmed, confident in his choice.

“I think it will be the Thoroughbreds.” Meg came right back. “If the Leafs win I'll take one of your sentry duty shifts.” Meg bet.

“And if the Thoroughbreds win?” Ben was intrigued now.

“You take Constable Turnbull for a day.” Meg nodded. It sounded fair to her.

“It's a bet.” Ben put his hand out to shake on it. Meg slipped her much smaller hand into his. He was surprised by her firm grip.

 _“This should be an interesting game.”_ Meg settled down on the end of the couch.

***

By the end of the first quarter the score was zero to zero. Each team struggled to put the puck past the others' goalie. Meg could just imagine a day free of Constable Renfield Turnbull glued to her elbow.

“Yes!!” Fraser shouted, jumping to his feet as the Leaf's shot one past the Thoroughbreds' goalie. He turned to Meg, an uncharacteristically cocky grin on his handsome face.

“Oh don't look at me like that, the game isn't over yet.” The lady Mountie punched Fraser's arm. He looked from his arm to Meg, his eyes wide.

“He scores another one!” An announcer proclaimed loudly.

“That's two, Inspector.” Fraser informed her. Meg rolled her eyes.

“We're off duty, call me 'Margaret' or 'Meg'.” She slipped her tennis shoes off and pulled her feet up on the couch beneath her. It was the first time Ben had ever seen her utterly relaxed.

“Margaret is a very pretty name.” Ben complimented, his attention on her and not the halftime program.

Meg didn't know what to say; she had never been a fan of her first name.

“Thank you, that's kind of you.” She met Fraser's open gaze for a brief moment. Mercy, but his eyes were so blue.

“Not at all, I quite like the name.” Ben didn't want her to think it was an empty compliment.

All Meg could do was smile. Leave it to Fraser to like the one aspect of her she felt self-conscious about. A few minutes later the game's third quarter began.

“I hope you enjoy having Turnbull for a shadow on Monday.” Meg nudged Ben with her foot as the Thoroughbreds pushed through the Leaf's defenses.

“Little Jimmy Whalin has very precise aim with his spit balls. He walks past the consulate every Monday for his tuba lesson with Mrs. Brown.” Fraser offhandedly remarked as the Leafs shoved back. He saw Meg shudder out of the corner of his eye.

***

At the end of the third quarter the Thoroughbreds were up by one point. Ben and Meg watched in silence, praying to the hockey gods for their respective teams to win.

The beginning of the fourth quarter saw both teams neck and neck again. Meg had uncurled and perched on the cushion beside Ben. She shouted and wailed at the television, urging her team onward. Ben threw out his fair share of loud, pointed encouragements.

***

Down to the buzzer, both Mounties stood mere inches from the television. Every muscle tensed as they watched the players skate hard and fast, their war faces firmly in place.

Ben felt Meg's shoulder rub his arm as she stood beside him. Her unique scent had been driving him crazy all evening. He smelled that fragrance and for a moment he was transported back to a rushing train, his arms around her curves.

“Damn!!” Meg shook her fists as they played a slow motion shot of the score tying goal. Ben stood still for a moment, coming back to the present.

“Overtime, I hate overtime, it takes forever.” Meg lamented venomously. Fraser couldn't help himself, he had to fan Meg's fire.

“Perhaps we could up the ante?” The constable suggested with naught a hint of guile. Meg's dark eyes flashed.

“Two sentry shifts or two days of Turnbull?” She put her hands on her hips, stepping closer.

“Agreed.” They shook on the bed, a gentleman's wager.

***

Overtime began with a bang. Both teams scrambled but the Leafs came out on top in the end.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Ben shouted. Overcome, he swept Meg up in his arms and whirled her around. Their eyes met and locked. Gently, he set her bare feet on the floor, his arms holding her against him. Those brown drowning pools called to his very soul. Ben leaned forward, his lips brushing against Meg's. Celebratory applause, announcers' voices, a commercial; none of it penetrated.

Meg let her hands wander up Ben's strong arms and around his neck. She felt herself breech the barrier between them, her tongue asking permission to explore. It felt good to be in his arms again. This was the warmest she'd felt all day. It made sentry duty worth it.

When Ben couldn't think straight from lack of oxygen he reluctantly pulled away. Meg rested her forehead against his chest, catching her breath.

“Well, I suppose I should go home, I have to polish my high browns.” Meg joked. She didn't want to leave at all. Pulling Ben up stairs, losing clothes all the way, sounded better to her.

“Yes, I suppose so.” Ben smiled, slowly pulling away, taking a deep breath of her unique scent.

“Shall I walk you to your car?” He offered, unwilling to move just yet.

“Yes, thank you.” Meg turned to find her shoes, purse and coat.

Together they walked outside into the chilly, night air. At the vehicle Meg paused. She couldn't leave things so unfinished this time.

“Fraser, I had a good evening, thank you for asking me to supper and a game.” She leaned against her mid-size sedan.

“It was my pleasure, Margaret.” Ben shoved his hands in his jeans pockets for lack of anything to do with them. He avoided looking at her, avoiding following his urge to kiss her again.

“Ben,” Meg spoke softly. She had to say his name twice before he raised his head.

“You're a very good kisser.” The only word to describe his reaction would be 'startled'.

“Thank, ah, thank you kindly.”

Meg smiled at his wide eyes and creeping blush.

“Always remember it, I know I will.” Meg slid into her car as Ben stood on the sidewalk- thunderstruck.

***

Monday morning at precisely eight o'clock Meg took her place in front of the consulate. Her back was straight, eyes forward and shoulders back. Ben looked out the entrance window at her still form. Red suited her, the uniform suited her.

“I thought the duty switch program ended Friday?” Turnbull's voice broke into Fraser's thoughts.

“It did.” He answered shortly, still peering out the window, hands behind his back at parade rest.

“Then why is the Inspector standing your sentry duty shift today?” Turnbull pressed on, oblivious to Fraser's lack of forthcoming.

“The Leafs won.” A mysterious smile spread over the Mountie's face.

“But what does hockey have to do ….” Turnbull didn't get to finish his question before the phone rang. Fraser let him step back to his desk to answer it. Inspector Thatcher being on sentry duty meant that Turnbull was his shadow after all. Still, it was worth it to see Margaret in her dress reds and high browns.

“Constable Turnbull, I have an appointment at the Twenty-seventh Precinct, I'll be back for lunch.” Fraser gathered his Stetson and coat before leaving. Still on the phone, Turnbull simply waved.

Dief heard his human's voice and came to join him at the front door. The old wolf wondered why his human was inside today and the alpha female was outside. Things were backwards.

On his way to the precinct, Fraser tipped his Stetson to Margaret as she stood perfectly still.

“Perhaps the Thoroughbreds will win next time.” He said softly, winking at her. Meg blinked and swallowed, dying to set him straight.

 _“Just you wait until four o'clock, buster, just you wait. Tease me will you !”_ She thought to herself, her face aching from suppressing a smile as he walked away whistling.

Dief looked up at her, his head turned to the side as he puzzled over the role reversal. No matter how old he got, he'd never fully understand humans; especially the female of the species. Heaven knew lady wolves were hard enough.

The End ….

 


End file.
